


The Santa Fe Diet

by Evil Crutchie (PawPunk)



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Angst, BDSM, Biting, Blood, Cannibalism, Coma, Dubious Morality, Fights, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kidnapping, Medical Experimentation, Modern Era, Moral Ambiguity, More angst, Multi, Panic Attacks, Post-Zombie Apocalypse, Sloppy Makeouts, Zombies, crutchie is a Fool, jack and crutchie are MARRIED, seriously cant overstate how angsty chapter 3 is, zombie! crutchie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-01-25 16:02:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21358903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PawPunk/pseuds/Evil%20Crutchie
Summary: The zombie apocalypse ended before it could start. Crutchie, as one of the first victims, was the first cured, and now he gets to live a completely normal life. But little does he know, he wasn't cured completely, and he still has a few zombie-like tendencies...Not even a Santa Carlita Diet au I just wanted to make a punTags will be added as they apply.
Relationships: Crutchie/Jack Kelly, Kid Blink/Mush Meyers
Comments: 27
Kudos: 31





	1. Bite Marks

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings: medical setting, mentions of diseases, rabies, and comas, Crutchie freaks out

Light filtered through gauzy white curtains into a clean white room and a soft white bed. It was a nice place to wake up in- or it would be if Crutchie had ever seen this room before. He sat bolt upright in bed. He was wearing new clothes (a cross between pajamas and hospital scrubs) and his crutch was gone, replaced by one of those crappy hospital wheelchairs. He pulled himself into the seat as quickly as possible and wheeled over to the door.

Much to his surprise, it wasn’t locked. He was met with a woman in a white coat, holding a tray. She leaped back, almost dropping it. 

“Hello, Mr. Kelly- Morris,” she said, quickly composing herself. “It’s so wonderful to see you awake!”

“Who are you, and how do you know my name?” Crutchie demanded. He backed away. This woman didn’t look like a crazed kidnapper, but you hardly could tell these days.

The woman smiled broadly. “I’m Doctor Mulligan, and I’m happy to say you’ve been cured!”

Crutchie blinked. “Cured of what?”

The doctor thrust the tray at him. “Eat. You need to get your strength up.”

“Cured of what?” Crutchie repeated. The waffles and fresh fruit on the tray looked perfect, but the sweet smell didn’t make Crutchie hungry at all. “What’s going on?”

Doctor Mulligan sighed. She sat on a little chair at the foot of his bed and spoke. “How much do you remember before now?”

Crutchie thought. “I remember all the important things, of course,” he started. His job, and how to do it. His order at the coffee shop. His friends. _Jack. _

“Can you remember anything more... recent?” the doctor asked.

Crutchie wracked his brains. He had been sick- that explained the weird hospital clothes and the doctor bringing him food. First, there had been the fever, then the headache that got worse and worse, then- “Nothing,” Crutchie said. “Was I- was I in a coma? How long has it been?” he asked desperately.

“One year, give or take a few weeks,” Doctor Mulligan said. “But you weren’t in a coma.”

Crutchie stared at her, bewildered, and Doctor Mulligan sighed. “When you were brought in, we thought you had been attacked by a rabid animal. And you had- but it was a new strain.” She swallowed. “Some people called it the zombie plague. You showed all the symptoms: violent urges, fear of water, not recognizing your loved ones.”

“Of course, we were able to contain the infection before it spread too far. It was fantastically lucky that we were able to develop a cure so fast. You got the first one that worked.” She looked at her hands which were folded primly in her lap.

Crutchie felt like he was going to vomit. “What happened to the others?” he asked. 

“They’ll receive the cure as well,” the doctor said. “But we first have to make sure it doesn’t have any side effects. We’ll be keeping track of your symptoms over the course of the next few weeks.”

“No, what happened to my family?” Crutchie clawed at his arms, his fingers running over new, bite mark shaped scars. “Are they-”

“They’re alive,” Doctor Mulligan hastened to say. “As I said before, we completely contained the infection.”

“Can I see them?” Crutchie asked softly.

“Not until we’re certain you won’t lash out. Now eat your food- you need your strength.” With that, the doctor stood and left, closing the door on Crutchie. He stared down at his food. If he’d had any appetite before, he sure as hell didn’t now. Still, he forced the food down. The faster he ate, the faster he got to see Jack.


	2. Reunited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: violence, syringes, forced injections, people kept in captivity (all very minor)

Crutchie had showered off what felt like an inch thick of grime. He’d dressed in some of his clothes that Jack had brought- that meant he was here! He’d even gotten a real crutch- not his, apparently he’d destroyed it. But he could walk fine with it, and that meant he could see his husband after a year of living as a mindless husk.

There was another doctor with him- he’d never introduced himself to Crutchie. “I want you to report to us every day on any abnormal symptoms,” he instructed. “That includes any illnesses, any changes in thinking, and above all, any strange urges.” 

“Alright.” Crutchie panted, trying to keep up with the power walking man. 

“If you feel any of these things, you will return to the labs and we will improve the cure,” the doctor said darkly. Crutchie nodded, swallowing.

As they walked through the labyrinthine corridors, Crutchie heard a horrible screaming. “The hell is that?” he yelped, hiding behind the doctor. 

“The other patients. The disease makes them resist treatment.” Through a shaded glass window, Crutchie could see a man, foaming at the mouth, frantically snap at two nurses before one of them managed to jam a syringe of tranquilizer into his arm. “Don’t worry, they’ll all be cured soon.” Crutchie shuddered and kept walking.

Finally, after what seemed like miles and miles of rooms (each containing a struggling “patient”) the two men arrived at a shoddy elevator. Crutchie stood silently as it moved down, finally reaching the ground floor. He took a deep breath and stepped out.

The first thing Crutchie heard was the sound of a phone clattering to the floor. Then he was enveloped in a bear hug, and he heard something between his name and a desperate sob.

“Charley,” Jack whispered, falling to his knees with his arms around Crutchie’s middle.

“Jack,” Crutchie replied. It was strange to see Jack react this way when he only remembered them being apart for a few days, but his body knew how long it had been. Jack’s touch felt burning hot, and tears sprung to Crutchie’s eyes as he lowered himself to the ground to hug Jack.

For a while, they just sat there, tangled in each other’s arms and getting used to being whole again. "You’re real,” Jack said finally.

“I’m real,” Crutchie repeated. He had almost started to doubt it himself.

“I thought I would never see you again,” Jack admitted, barely audible. His unshaved face scratched Crutchie’s cheek.

“I know, I know,” Crutchie reassured him. He kissed Jack’s nose, finally earning a hopeful smile out of him. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“I know.” Jack helped him up, and Crutchie realized there were other people here. He barely had time to brace himself before being overtaken by a wave of newsies. Romeo, ever speedy, beat the rest to him. Blink tackled both of them, squishing the poor kid. Mush literally swept him off his feet in a bear hug. Race just gave him a slightly more enthusiastic bro- hug.

“Crutchie, dude!” he yelled. “I have so many memes to catch you up on!” Crutchie laughed out loud. At least one thing hadn’t changed.

“I love you guys,” he said, wiping a tear out of his eye. “But can we go home?”

“Yeah,” Jack said hoarsely. “Mush brought her van, so-”

The doctor that had released Crutchie coughed loudly. “You have some forms to fill out, Mr. Kelly Morris.”

“Right,” Crutchie sighed. He grabbed the forms and signed without really looking. He handed the clipboard back.

“Remember, call this number every night to report on your symptoms,” the doctor said. He gave Crutchie a number scrawled on loose paper, and Crutchie pocketed it.

“Thanks, doctor......” he trailed off.

The doctor smiled gregariously. “Snyder. Doctor Snyder,” he said. “Enjoy your day, Mr. Kelly- Morris.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a Certain Reader who may not know: Snyder is a main villain of Newsies, who makes money off incarcerating and abusing children.


	3. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: (temporarily, in the long run) failing relationship, Race makes a sex joke, mention of being drunk

The drive back home was mostly uneventful. Crutchie’s friends (mostly Race) caught him up to speed on what had happened while he was sick (luckily there hadn’t been a third world war) while Crutchie just leaned his head on Jack’s shoulder. Jack rubbed circles on his hand with his thumb. 

By the time they arrived at Jack and Crutchie’s house, Crutchie felt oddly exhausted. “I really want to catch up with you guys,” he assured his friends, “But for a little bit I think I just need to be alone.”

“Alright,” Race shrugged. “Let's leave Crutchie with Jack. _Alone_.” He exaggerated a wink, and Mush gently slapped him.

“Can you just leave them alone?” she sighed.

“No, it’s okay. I mean, as long as you don’t mind,” Crutchie said to Jack.

“Yeah, I do think I need to be alone too. Gotta re-adjust, you know?” Jack stepped out of the van, but before Crutchie could follow he swept him off his feet and picked him up bridal style. “Later guys! Thanks for coming!”

As the van drove off, Jack carried Crutchie through the doorway. Just like when they had first bought the house, ready to fix the ramshackle thing up. Jack carefully set Crutchie down and kissed him. “I missed you,” he said softly.

“I missed you too,” Crutchie said, even though he couldn’t have missed Jack as much as Jack missed him.

“Is there anything you need?” Jack was quick to ask. “I washed all your clothes, and I could run to the store if you want me to cook you something-”

“Can I watch you paint?” Crutchie asked. 

“Yeah,” Jack said. He slumped his shoulders and a terrible ache settled in Crutchie’s stomach. He wanted to apologize, but then he’d have to explain to Jack what an awful husband he was. So he kept quiet as he followed Jack to his studio.

The rest of the day felt like high school, when they both knew they loved the other but were too shy to spit it out. Dinner was quiet and awkward. Crutchie couldn’t enjoy Jack’s wonderful cooking, and for once he couldn’t wait to go to bed and just sleep. Maybe things would be better in the morning.

Before he went to bed, Crutchie pulled out the doctor’s number from his pocket. The paper was already smudged and hard to read, so he copied it down before dialing him. He held the phone up to his ear.

“Hello?” Doctor Snyder’s voice crackled on the other end. He sounded sleepy, drunk even. “Who’s it?”

“It’s Charley Kelly- Morris,” Crutchie explained. “You wanted me to call you every night to make sure I was fully cured.”

“Ah, yes.” A rustling of paper. “And how are you feeling?”

“Totally normal.” Except that he was scared his relationship with his husband was gone. Crutchie shook his head. The doctor didn’t care about his relationship troubles. “Goodnight, Doctor Snyder.”

“Goodnight. Don’t forget to check with me tomorrow.” He hung up, and Crutchie set down his phone. He crawled into bed, facing away from Jack’s side. Eventually, Jack joined him. He shifted closer, then turned away.

"Crutchie?" Jack asked.

"Yeah?"

There was a pause. "If you wake up before me, don't get out of bed. I don't wanna wake up without you again."

"Of course," Crutchie said.

“Goodnight, Crutch,” Jack sighed.

Crutchie’s throat hurt. “Goodnight, Jack,” he whispered, almost to himself, and turned off the light.


	4. Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: blood, biting, safewording out of a sexual situation, make-outs, light BDSM

When Crutchie woke up, he and Jack were tangled up together. One of Jack’s hands lazily petted his head, and the other petted his waist under his shirt. Crutchie sighed happily. 

Jack immediately jerked back. “I’m sorry,” he said shamefully, and Crutchie’s heart broke.

“Sorry for what?” he asked.

Jack continued like he hadn’t heard him. “It’s just been so long since I’d seen you-”

“Jackie, you’re okay,” Crutchie said. “I can deal with a little touching, honest. In fact-” he said, sitting up and pulling Jack with him- “I’m okay with a lot more touching than that!”

“Oh,” Jack said before Crutchie pulled him into a kiss. As Crutchie shifted into Jack’s lap and deepened the kiss, a familiar warmth and ease spread through his body. Maybe this was what would fix it, and they could go back to being normal now. 

Jack moaned as Crutchie started kissing his neck. It was only ruined a little by the knowledge that Jack was only reacting this strongly because Crutchie had been a zombie for over a year. He licked Jack, feeling his strong pulse under his tongue, tasting his sweat. 

“Sir,” Jack breathed. Crutchie shivered, nipping slightly. Jack tossed his head back, sighing with pleasure. “Yes, right there-”

Crutchie bit down harder, and Jack cried out. He was already hard, the poor thing. Crutchie pushed him down and, almost instinctively, clamped his teeth on Jack’s neck and ripped.

“Red! Red!” Jack shouted, pushing Crutchie away. Crutchie gasped, as he saw the bleeding bite mark on Jack’s neck. He licked his red-stained lips, staring at the wound for a few seconds before realizing what it meant.

“Oh shit,” he gasped. “I’ll- I’ll get bandages, just wait here-” Crutchie was out the door, almost falling as he limped to the bathroom. He grabbed gauze and bandages and sprinted back. “How deep is it, honey?”

“I think you just got the skin,” Jack said. He pulled his bloody hand away and let Crutchie clean the bite. Once it was a little cleaner, he realized it wasn’t as bad as he thought. Crutchie sighed with relief and bandaged the wound.

“I’m sorry,” he said, caressing Jack’s face. “I promise I didn’t mean to.”

“I believe you,” Jack said. He kissed Crutchie. “But now I gotta wash my hand.”

Crutchie followed Jack into the bathroom. He reluctantly washed his face, watching all that lovely blood spiral down the drain. Though he hated to admit it, biting Jack had felt really good. _Tasted_ really good. Crutchie shook his head. Jack obviously didn’t like it, so he wasn’t going to let himself dwell on biting enough to... get into it.

Oddly, the whole biting thing erased some of the strangeness of being back. Florence Nightengale effect and all, maybe? Crutchie went out with Jack, just to coffee (his favorite place had gotten worse in the last year), but it was great fun. 

That night, he called Doctor Snyder again. “No odd symptoms,” he confirmed again. Unless you counted getting _another_ weird kink as a symptom of rabies. That night as he fell asleep (this time facing Jack) Crutchie thought that maybe everything really was normal again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Needless to say, Crutchie is an oblivious Fucc


	5. Missing Persons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: medical malpractice, implied kidnapping, cursing, one use of a homophobic slur, panic attack

Crutchie sipped his tea and flipped through the newspaper. It might seem like an odd choice to read a physical paper instead of just going to a news site, but Katherine wrote for this paper, and as her friend, Crutchie was obligated to read her writing. As usual, everyone except her was kinda trash. 

“Oh, here’s a gem,” he narrated as Jack fried eggs and some vegetarian sausages. “Some asshole thinks that “ok boomer” is a slur. How much do you want to bet he’d call us fags?”

“Don’t make me put money on such good odds, Crutch!” Jack gasped. “You know that’s what got Race hooked!”

“Yes, yes, sorry hon,” Crutchie laughed. He turned the page to Katherine’s article and stopped dead.

“You alright?” Jack asked. He walked behind Crutchie, sliding the food onto his plate. “What’s that say?”

“Eight Patients Missing from Refuge Hospital,” Crutchie read. The hospital he had been at just a few days prior. Jack peered over his shoulder, and Crutchie began to read the main points of the article.

“On Friday the 18th of October, eight patients slated to be released from the Refuge Hospital mysteriously went missing... There were no records of transfer, and no explanations were given to their families- only that they had to stay for longer. The missing persons were all being treated for the new rabies strain and were considered fully recovered... Doctors refused to give information on why the patients weren’t being allowed to leave.” Crutchie set down the paper and looked up. Jack was pale as a sheet.

“That’s bad,” Jack said dumbly. “Oh, that’s _very_ bad.”

Crutchie looked down at his breakfast. Suddenly, he wasn’t hungry at all. “I’m sure they’ll find them,” he said. “Kath’s a smart lady, she’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“Yeah,” Jack muttered. He sat down and put his head in his hands, shivering. Crutchie rubbed his back. They stayed there for a little while, their breakfast getting cold. 

“I’m sorry,” Jack muttered. “I didn’t mean- It’s just- what if that had been you?”

“It wasn’t,” Crutchie reminded him. “There’s no use worrying about it, okay?”

“Yeah.” Jack looked down. “I’m sorry, let me heat that up for you-”

“Nope nope nope,” Crutchie stopped him. “Do you want to go have breakfast at a diner?” he suggested. “It might be nice to get out.”

“You sure you’re up to it?” Jack asked.

“Jack, I’m not gonna break,” Crutchie laughed. “I know I gotta take my time recovering, but I’m bored. Let’s go out! We can make it a date.”

Jack grinned. “Okay,” he said, standing up. “Let’s go, then!”


	6. The Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: physical fighting, sexist and classist violence, sexist and ableist slurs, cannibalism, blood, graphic descriptions of violence

Even so early in the morning, the diner was crowded. Waitresses squeezed between packed tables, barely avoiding bumping into people. Jack and Crutchie were lucky to snag a table by the window. 

“This place is a lot more popular than I remember,” Crutchie noted. 

“Yeah, someone made a vlog here and it went viral.” Jack shrugged. “They haven’t gotten the memo though. Haven’t hired any more waitresses at least.”

Crutchie flipped through the menu. He was really, really hungry, but nothing stood out to him as particularly good. In fact, now that he thought about it, he hadn’t really enjoyed eating for the past few days. That was... probably a bad thing. Maybe even worthy of telling Dr. Snyder.

Suddenly, Crutchie was jerked out of his thoughts by loud shouting. “You incompetent bitch!” shouted a man sitting just one table away. “I came here for a special breakfast and you spill coffee all over my new shirt? Where’s your manager?”

“I’m so sorry sir,” muttered the poor waitress. “I’ll speak to my manager, I might be able to get you your meal for free-”

“Forget a free meal!” the man screamed. “I want you fired!” He stood up suddenly, looming over the waitress. Suddenly, the restaurant was very quiet.

“Hey!” Without really thinking, Crutchie stood up. He hobbled over to the man, not looking very intimidating but shocking him into inaction with his sheer stupidity. “That woman did nothing wrong! She made a mistake anyone could make, and you’re only making yourself look like an asshole by screaming at her!”

The man turned to glare at him. He stepped towards Crutchie, and he stepped back. Jack stood behind him, but he couldn’t compare to this guy. He looked like a cop. 

Suddenly, the guy turned his head. Off to one side, another customer was filming him. He huffed loudly and sat down. “Just get me another damn coffee,” he sighed.

“Right away sir,” the waitress said. She hurried out, and a different person brought the man his drink.

Jack and Crutchie sat back down. “What were you thinking?” Jack asked. 

“I wasn’t,” Crutchie admitted. Adrenaline rushed through his veins. “It would have felt wrong to just sit and watch, though.”

The waitress arrived at their table. “Have you decided on what you want to eat?” she asked.

“Yes, I’ll have the huevos rancheros,” Jack said.

“Can I have the waffles with seasonal fruit?” Crutchie asked.

“Sure thing! Let me take your menus,” the waitress said. She bent down farther than she needed to pick them up and said softly “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Crutchie muttered back. 

As soon as Crutchie bit into the waffles he knew something was wrong. He didn’t enjoy them at all, and waffles (specifically this restaurant's waffles) were mankind’s crowning achievement. He finished anyway, so Jack wouldn’t get worried.

Jack stood up after they paid. “I’m gonna run to the bathroom."

“I’ll wait outside,” Crutchie said. He exited the building and leaned against the wall. Suddenly, a shadow fell over him. He looked up to see the man who had been rude to the waitress earlier. “Hi?” he squeaked.

“You made me look like an idiot in there,” the man growled. Crutchie thought of replying _oh no, that was all you_, but he had a sense of self-preservation.

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

“Oh, you’d better be.” The man grabbed Crutchie by the shirt, drawing back a fist.

“No!” Crutchie shouted. “You- help! Someone help!” The man placed a meaty hand over his mouth. Crutchie could barely breathe, let alone call for help. So he did the only thing he could think of- he bit down on the palm of the man’s hand as hard as he could.

The man yelled in pain, jerking his hand back. Crutchie twisted his head, tearing off a substantial piece of the skin. The man’s blood coated the bottom half of his face. “Get away from me!” he screamed, a sudden bolt of courage running through him. He lunged at the man, and he stepped backward. He actually looked scared of Crutchie.

“Fine, just leave me alone! Fucking psycho freak!” The man ran away, clutching his bleeding hand. 

Crutchie shivered. There was a new sort of feeling running through him that he had never felt before. It was like the high he got from winning an argument, only better. As he gasped for breath, Crutchie realized he was chewing on the bit of flesh he had torn off. To his surprise, he didn’t immediately spit it out. It tasted good. In fact, it was the first thing that had tasted good to him since... since he had gotten out of the hospital.

The diner’s door opened. “What the hell is going on?” asked Jack.


	7. Lying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: blood mention, cannibalism, lying, medical malpractice, kidnapping

The first thing Crutchie thought was _I can’t tell Jack_. He put up with so much about him- even loved things Crutchie thought nobody would ever find attractive. But Jack always maintained that he loved Crutchie because he was a good person, because he’d never do anyone any harm. And now he had. And he probably would do it some more.

“You know that guy who was yellin’ at the waitress? He had a few words with me,” Crutchie said.

“Did he hurt you?” Jack asked, rushing over to inspect Crutchie’s face.

Crutchie licked some blood off his lips. “Nah. I had to break his nose in self-defense, though. It sprayed all over.” He could tell Jack didn’t fully believe him, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he pulled out a tissue and wiped off Crutchie’s face before calling a taxi.

“You don’t need any more stress today,” he explained.

Even with the shock of discovering his taste for human flesh, Crutchie could think more clearly that day. A craving he didn’t know he had had been sated. He called Davey and arranged to start working some simple cases from home. It was the most normal he’d felt since he’d left the hospital.

The evening rolled around, and Crutchie picked up the phone to call Dr. Snyder. If he wanted to eat people, that meant he couldn’t be fully cured, and he had to tell him. “Evening, Mr. Kelly- Morris,” Dr. Snyder answered. “Any symptoms?”

“Yes, actually,” Crutchie said. He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. Eight patients had gone missing from the Refuge Hospital under Snyder’s care, and they’d all been infected with the new strain of rabies. Somehow, Crutchie didn’t trust that he wouldn’t be the next victim. Was he really going to risk his safety for a problem he could probably solve on his own? Would he risk Jack’s happiness?

“Well? Spit it out,” Dr. Snyder snapped.

“Oh, it’s just a sniffle,” Crutchie lied. “I think it might be because I was in a sterile environment for so long. My body doesn’t know how to handle the New York subway germs anymore. Does that sound bad?”

“No,” Snyder said. He sounded almost disappointed. “You’re sure there’s nothing else?”

“Absolutely,” said Crutchie. “Goodnight!” Snyder hung up the phone. He fell back on the bed. Even if he didn’t want to go back to the hospital, he couldn’t just walk around craving human flesh. What if he hurt someone? What if he hurt his friends? Crutchie thought long and hard for solutions and went to bed, resolved to try them in the morning.


	8. Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: unsanitary conditions, raw meat, stalking, mentions of cannibalism and police

Crutchie had read somewhere that cannibal tribes called human meat “long pork”. This was apparently on account of it tasting like pork, but sweeter. So, logically, Crutchie’s cravings should be sated with lightly sweetened pig.

Even so, Crutchie still felt strange as he ripped open a sugar pack and dumped it onto a rack of raw ribs. Sitting in a cigarette-scented New York alleyway didn’t help, but he didn’t really have another option. If he went home, Jack might see him, and this wasn’t really the sort of meal one could eat on a park bench.

Crutchie raised the raw meat to his mouth. It went against every instinct he had, but he carefully nibbled off one corner. It tasted absolutely disgusting. He swallowed anyway, hoping that it would trick his body into thinking he had eaten human flesh.

“What the fuck?” Crutchie jumped, hiding the ribs behind him. 

“Hey Blink,” he said, waving lamely. Blink and Mush stood at the entrance of the alleyway, holding hands and staring at him like he had two heads. Or like he was eating pork ribs covered in sugar. 

“Crutchie, honey,” Mush said gently, “Why are you eating raw meat in an alleyway?”

In a true Miles Morales moment, Crutchie said: “That wasn’t meat.” He immediately cursed himself.

“Then what was it?” Blink asked. 

“Uhhh,” Crutchie said, glancing around as if the junk and trash might give him a clue. “It’s gummy candy.”

“Don’t those still have gelatine?”

“Not this one.”

“Can I try some?” Mush asked suspiciously. 

“No,” said Crutchie. Blink and Mush stared at him for a while. “Don’t tell Jack.”

“Okay,” Mush said reluctantly. “But if you need anything, I’m, uh, here for you?”

“Thanks,” Crutchie said. As the pair walked away, sadness grew in Crutchie’s heart. He knew Mush was being sincere, but at the same time, she wouldn’t be here for him if she knew the truth.

Crutchie stood up, abandoning the ribs for some lucky stray animal before walking out of the alley. He yelped as he bumped into a rushing commuter, paranoid that somehow they would know. He stumbled home, regretting not just taking the damn subway. 

As Crutchie collapsed at the kitchen table, he looked out the window and saw that same person he had bumped into. _No,_ he thought, _that can’t be right_. He hadn’t even gotten a good look at them. It must be someone in similar clothing. Crutchie’s whole body was out of wack, why wouldn’t his head be too? Even so, Crutchie drew the curtains.

His phone rang. Crutchie picked it up. “Hello?” he said.

“Any unusual symptoms?” asked a familiar voice.

“Dr. Snyder?” Crutchie said. “I thought I was supposed to call you. Besides, it isn’t even noon yet? Isn’t it early?”

“Some... complications have shown up in other patients. How’s that sniffle doing?”

“What sniffle?” Crutchie said instinctively. Then, he remembered his lie. “I mean, it’s doing fine. Almost all cleared up! What sniffle, haha, you get it? Because I got better so fast?” he tried. 

Dr. Snyder did not laugh. In fact, he seemed to get more serious as he said, “You shouldn’t lie to doctors, Mr. Kelly-Morris.”

“I’m not lying,” Crutchie lied. 

“Very well. Do you have any plans this week?”

Crutchie paused. “No, not really,” he said suspiciously. “Why?”

“I think you need a follow-up appointment. To make sure everything’s really okay.” Suddenly, Crutchie wanted to drop the phone and hide. He walked over and closed the curtains tighter.

“Alright,” he squeaked. “When?”

“As soon as possible,” Dr. Snyder said. “How about tomorrow? 3:00 PM sharp.”

“Sounds good,” Crutchie said. Somehow, he didn’t feel like he needed to write that down. The date and time were stuck in his mind. 

“Remember, Mr. Kelly- Morris,” said Dr. Snyder, “I want to help you.”

“I know,” Crutchie said. He hung up, willing his heart to stop pounding. It would probably be fine, right? Didn’t matter that he was getting the same feeling from Snyder that he got from cops. Crutchie ran to the window and opened it, letting the fresh air wake him up. The commuter he had bumped into was still across the street. 


	9. Coming Clean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: discussion of stalking, medical malpractice, and kidnapping

Crutchie climbed the stairs as fast as he could, bursting into Jack’s studio. “Honey, I think we’re being stalked,” he said. 

“What?” Jack dropped his paintbrush, spinning to face him. “Since when? How do you know?”

“For a week at most, I think,” Crutchie said, still out of breath. “I bumped into this guy and he’s been standing outside our house, and Dr. Snyder started calling me in the middle of the day...” he trailed off, realizing how dumb it sounded when he voiced his suspicions.

“Okay,” Jack said, relaxing. “I don’t really think that counts as stalking, Crutch.”

“No, but like- Dr. Snyder was sounding really weird and pushy when he called me. He accused me of lying to him-” (not really accused, since it was true, Crutchie thought)- “he randomly scheduled an appointment for tomorrow, when I wasn’t supposed to see him until next month, and he just- he really creeped me out. I dunno.”

Jack cupped Crutchie’s cheek. “I believe you.” His hand slid up to feel Crutchie’s forehead. “But you need to see a doctor, Crutch. You haven’t been yourself since you got out of the hospital.”

“Jack,” Crutchie said. “Do you remember that article about the missing persons?”

“Yeah?”

“The ones who went missing from the Refuge hospital, the one Dr. Snyder works at, after being treated for a disease I was being treated for?”

“Uhuh?” Jack said suspiciously. “Do ya really think Dr. Snyder is trying to get you back just so he can... fill up wards, I guess?”

“No!” Crutchie yelled. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to do. “Here’s the thing, Jack. I don’t think the disease was ever fully cured.”

Jack stared at him blankly. Then his eyes widened. “So that means-”

“I’m not contagious,” Crutchie butt in, “And I’m still in total control of myself. But the instinct to bite people- that wasn’t cured. I can resist it!” He specified as Jack took a step back. “Here’s the thing- I know it sounds crazy- but I think Dr. Snyder is experimenting on those missing patients.”

Jack nodded, reaching for his phone. “You don’t believe me,” Crutchie stated hopelessly.

“I don’t... not believe you,” Jack said. “I didn’t hear that phone call. If you think Dr. Snyder is experimenting on his patients, we need to get proof. ASAP.” He selected a contact on the phone, holding it up to his ear. “Hey, Katherine?” he said. “Come to our house. We might have the biggest story of the year.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just pretend it hasnt been almost a month since the last update lol


End file.
